


fandom_stocking contribution: Firefly (Mal/Simon I)

by recrudescence



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sordid undergrad exploits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fandom_stocking contribution: Firefly (Mal/Simon I)

Simon knows enough to get by. He might not be an actual masseur, but his first roommate most assuredly _was_, and Simon had come away from that relationship with more than one kind of knowledge.

Paid for one of the opulent dorms, thanks to his family’s resources and his determination to live on-campus, had a roommate five years older than himself who would practice on him. The most he’d been touched by a stranger, something that initially terrified him and abruptly ensnared him, and it gradually escalated. Rina Mohammad; his roommate had recently stopped dating her, and then it seemed he was all about Simon, manipulating his body with touches he had never fathomed before. Starting with just hands, then for the tension in his neck and shoulders, subtle manipulations around his scalp and temples. The first time he’d laid down on his stomach, submitted himself to what Mal would probably refer to as _wiles_, and felt himself getting hard, he was mortified. But Samuel had just asked him to turn over, teased and prodded him, and then had Simon bucking and coming in his pants and feeling magnificent. From there, everything had traveled up, and he was sipping ginseng liquor one evening when he realized he couldn’t think of one place he wouldn’t let Samuel touch him, then went slipping into bed with him and promptly passed out.

“And that’s how I know which kinds of oil are most efficient for easing muscle tension, which clearly you need, so please don’t presume to tell me that it’s _girly_.”

The captain just sits there, slack-jawed, on the edge of the bed and soundlessly starts undoing his shirt.

Simon nods and gets down to business, clinically as he can. “Thank you.”

Being called girly is barely a blip on his radar in the grand scheme of insults he’s endured while onboard Serenity. Everyone knows Mal’s the one who sometimes dons dresses—even if it is in the line of duty. Like so many things, it’s a matter of principle. Being able to speak freely without somehow bungling it is a luxury that sometimes seems as if it doesn’t fall into his hands nearly as often as it should.

In increments, Mal eases up. Letting Simon have the upper hand, one particle at a time, whether his pride approves it or not, and Simon’s own pride flares a little hotter once he realizes it. “Feels nice.” Grudgingly, in that magnanimously _captain_ish manner of his.

“I told you it would. If you’d listened earlier, it would have saved so much time.”

“And that’s why you saw fit to share your sordid undergrad exploits?”

Mal has been unclothed in front of him on various occasions, whether it be for bullet-removing purposes or from being stripped naked in the desert by an estranged spouse. Seeing him half-drowsing in his bed is a new bullet point for the list. Soft-skinned and scar-specked, lightly freckled from a life outdoors before he shut himself in a ship and sped away from terrestrial troubles. Simon molds his thumbs along the lines of scapula and deliberately kneads a little harder. Breath brushing that bared nape, Mal’s head drooping a little more into his pillow. “That and the fact that you’re too strung out on painkillers to remember any of this in the morning. Good night, captain.”

True to form, he’s already slumped and snoring when Simon finishes.


End file.
